


Kiss the Rain

by Deans_Fetish



Series: Dark Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, RAPE AND TORTURE RECOVERY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-29
Updated: 2009-09-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans_Fetish/pseuds/Deans_Fetish
Summary: "Hello... Do you miss me? I hear you say you do, but not the way I’m missing you.What’s new. How’s the weather? Is it stormy where you are?You sound so close but it feels like you’re so far. Oh would it mean anythingIf you knew, what I’m left imagining, in my mind, my mind…"** NOTE:  This work is a continuation of the DARK series.





	

Dean staggered out of the bathroom a few moments later, one blood soaked trembling hand covered his mouth, tear-filled eyes fixed on the form of his brother as Bobby frantically tried to stem the flow of blood. 

The elder hunter stood pressing wadded t-shirts against several wounds as he spoke softly to Sam, telling him to 'hold on', even though Sam looked for all the world like he was already dead.

Dean moved forward on numb, wooden legs, stepping up to the side of what once was a bed, to stare down at his brother, before tearing his gaze away to look over at Bobby.

"Who," Dean started, as he slowly pulled his trembling hand away from his mouth, "who did this to him?" 

Bobby didn't answer, just continued to work on Sam, speaking softly to his unconscious form.

Dean tore his gaze away from Bobby to look down at Sam's blood soaked body, his gaze running over his form, slowly moving to his face.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered brokenly as a tear slid down his cheek.

Tearing his gaze away, Dean grit his teeth as he looked at Bobby, "Who dammit!? Tell me who did this to him! I'll kill the sonuvabitch!" Dean growled.

Bobby turned his head to look at Dean, revulsion and pity in his eyes, though he remained silent, only returning his gaze back to Sam as he continued to work on him.

Dean's eyes widened, as he gasped in a breath, taking a step back, his gaze falling to Sam once more. 

Dean's chest ached as though someone had just tore a wide gaping hole in it, his stomach flopping, bile rising up into his throat as he shook his head. "No," Dean whispered brokenly.

All the answer he had needed had been there in Bobby's gaze.

"No!" Dean repeated, louder now, stronger as he looked up at Bobby. "I would never -" Dean's gaze went back to the form of his brother, face crumbling as he wept, shaking his head, "I would never hurt him." Dean finished softly through his tears.

Bobby didn't reply, only continued to tend to Sam.

Sam groaned softly, head rolling to the side.

Dean's eyes widened, hearing sound coming from his brother's prone form.

Stepping quickly forward, Dean leaned over Sam, one hand on the side of his brother's face, pad of his thumb running slowly over Sam's cheekbone as he looked down at him, bottom lip trembling.

"S - Sammy?" Dean called to him softly.

Dark lashes fluttered as Sam slowly opened his eyes to see Dean's face before him.

Sam sucked in a gasped breath and tried to shrink back from Dean as he shook his head, tears immediately filling his eyes, the fear within their hazel depths hard to miss. "No," he begged brokenly, voice whisper soft and weak, "please, no more." 

"Sam," Bobby spoke from the opposite side of the bed, drawing Sam's attention, his head turning to look up at the elder hunter.

Dean's hand slowly slid away from the side of Sam's face to rest against his shoulder as tears filled his eyes.

Sam swallowed hard, "Ba - Bobby?" he asked softly, turning his head back to look at Dean, a look of horror on etched on his face as he shook his head, "Don't," he swallowed, drawing in a weak breath, "don't hurt Bobby," Sam begged him, "please. Let me," his eyes fluttered closed, "be enough."

A whimper tore from Dean's throat, face wrecked before a sob left him, tears falling. "Sammy!" he called to his brother's once again unconscious form. 

Dean tore his gaze from Sam's face to look up at Bobby, shaking his head.

"What do I do!?" Dean asked him through gritted teeth.

Bobby looked at Dean a moment, jaw set.

"You wanna help, get that thing outta him!" Bobby told him, cocking his head to the side toward Sam's groin, his gaze never leaving Dean's face.

Dean's gaze darted down Sam's body, his legs still bent, though now both fallen to the side, the rod still in his cock. 

Dean shook his head slowly, tears continuing to fall, before he looked back at Bobby and sniffled.

"I - I dunno how," Dean stammered brokenly.

"Well, ya better learn, dammit all!" Bobby growled, glancing down again as he applied more pressure to a seeping wound.

Looking back up at Dean, Bobby scoffed, "You put it there, Dean, get it out, dammit ta hell!" he yelled at him when Dean had only stood there a lost, forlorn look on his face. 

Dean moved, stepping toward the end of the platform, his gaze on Sam's groin as his bottom lip trembled, a small whimper sounding deep in his throat as he reached out with shaking hands to grasp his brother's limp dick gently in one hand as he turned his hips toward him with the other.

Dean choked back a sob as he slowly started to work the rod out of his brother, tears blurring his vision.

"Oh God, Sammy..." Dean mumbled brokenly, sniffling as he drew in a breath.

The evidence of Sam's rape was hard to miss, even if you wanted to.

Even if every fiber of your being wanted to deny it's existance, it was there, shouting it's presence at Dean, declaring what else, what more, he had done to his baby brother.

Bobby glanced up at Dean, a look of pity and sadness etched into his weathered face, before he tore his gaze away, looking back down at Sam.

"S'gonna be alright, son." Bobby muttered softly to Sam's unconscious form.

Dean let out a sigh of relief as soon as he had the rod out of Sam, throwing it down onto the floor as he took a step back, tears streaming down his face.

"It's out," he nodded, unable to look up at Bobby in his shame, "I got it out." Dean mumbled brokenly.

Bobby nodded, glancing up at him, "Call an ambulance, son," Bobby told Dean softly.

Dean nodded and turned to walk over to the dresser where his jeans lay and grab his cell.

"And get yer pants on," Bobby added, as he looked over at him, "we'll come up with somethin' ta tell 'em when they get here." 

Dean paused at Bobby's words, nodding, though he didn't look back.

* 

Sam only spent one night at the hospital before going home with Bobby.

He was still weak, highly drugged to help with the pain, many of the cuts he had suffered had stitches that would need to be removed.

But none of these things were something a hunter couldn't handle, the main reason Bobby had wanted Sam to go had been for the blood loss. 

Of course, there had been questions regarding what had happened to Sam, but Bobby had made up an elaborate lie about someone breaking in while he and Dean were out, about Dean fighting with the guy and then about him holding onto Sam to explain how Sam's blood had wound up all over Dean.

Through it all, Dean had stood with his head hanging in silence.

When the ambulance took Sam away, Bobby had told Dean it would be best if he didn't follow.

That had been the last time Bobby had seen Dean. 

That had been over two weeks ago.

Sam was doing better, eating Bobby out of house and home.

Had gotten up out of bed and now sat in the kitchen with him often, though not for too long before Bobby would suggest he go back to bed, seeing the weak look on Sam's face, the bags under his eyes.

Nightmares plagued Sam at night.

Bobby had awoken more than once to him screaming Dean's name, though Sam never wanted to talk about them.

Dean wasn't doing any better on his end, images of what he had done to Sam came crashing back in his dreams, the sound of his brothers pleas and the look of anguish on his face.

The look of utter fear and horror in Sam's eyes would stay with Dean all day when he woke.

Only after more then his fair share of whiskey could Dean close his eyes and not see that look on Sam's face, in his eyes.

"Sammy..." Dean mumbled his name softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his cell phone.

Dean had called Bobby every day to ask how Sam was doing and every day Bobby would tell him the same thing. 

'Better. He's healing, but it's too soon, Dean. Give him time.'

Time.

Dean huffed softly, looking away from his cell as he tipped the bottle of Jim Beam up to his lips and took a long pull.

He wanted to call Sam, wanted to call him so bad he could taste it, but then, each time his finger hovered over the button he would remember what he had done. 

Remember the taste of his brother's lips, the feel of Sam's body under his.

Remember how the knife had sliced so easily through his flesh and each time, Dean had chickened out, not called. 

Now was no different.

His hand gripped the cell harder as he thought of the way Sam had looked at him, the sheer terror in Sam's hazel eyes, how broken he had been.

He had done that.

"Take care of your brother, Dean..."

Dean took another long drink.

"Hello?"

Dean stilled, head turning toward his cell, eyes wide, as he tore his mouth away from the bottle, spilling some of the amber liquor onto his shirt in the process.

He'd pushed the send button. 

That was Sam's voice.

Dean slowly moved the cell to his ear, hands trembling.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, so he closed it, cleared his throat and tried again.

"Hello..."

Sam bit his lip as he sat in the bed Bobby had given him, the room he had made his own, back against the head board, form covered up to his waist under warm blankets.

"H- hi." Sam stammered softly, not knowing what to say, if he wanted to say anything at all.

"Can you hear me okay?" Dean asked him softly, licking his lips, unshed tears stinging his eyes.

Sam nodded, though no one would see the gesture. "Yeah, I hear you."

"How - how are you?" Dean asked him, his hand around the neck of the bottle tightening to a white knuckled grip.

Sam didn't answer.

"Sammy, I'm so sorry." Dean told him in a rush, tears spilling over to run down his cheeks.

Jaw clenched, muscle twitching, Sam turned his head to look toward the door. "Yeah, look I gotta go." he lied, not wanting to talk about it, talk about his shame, about how his brother had abused and defiled him. 

His brother...

Dean sniffled, nodding. "Sure, sure, Sam. Okay." he told him softly, "Take - take care of-"

Before Dean could finish the phone went dead.

Dean pulled the phone slowly from his ear, hitting the END button, tears blurring his vision as sobs racked his frame, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Taking a deep breath, Dean raised his head and in a bust of rage, threw the cell across the room against the wall, then the bottle of whiskey, both shattered, falling onto the cheap motel carpet. 

Dean fell back onto the bed sobbing, his hands rose to his face, the heels of his hands pressing against his tear wet eyes as he rolled onto his side, pulling up into the fetal position, continuing to cry.


End file.
